


Which As They Kiss, Consume

by howelllesters



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, Romeo and Juliet References, Shakespeare, minor alcohol mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-10-15 05:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howelllesters/pseuds/howelllesters
Summary: Dan’s an aspiring actor, and Phil’s so over studying Romeo and Juliet.





	

Phil’s stomach rumbled, loudly, and he glanced around the little lighting area, embarrassed that someone might have heard. Thankfully the other technician had his headphones on, frowning as he tried to match light sequences with music changes, something Phil did not envy.

He was just in charge of pressing buttons and sliding slidey things, which suited him just fine. He had no desires to be here, but all of the Technology A-Level students had been drafted in to help out with the latest drama production, for a reason Phil was still unaware of, and he’d managed to escape set design, or worse, costumes, so he supposed he should count himself lucky.

It was hard to feel lucky at half six on a Friday night though, when most of the teachers had even gone home.

A couple of the Drama students were hovering around the stage, blocking the latest scene, and their teacher was agitatedly pointing her finger at various bits of old tape marking the rundown stage. Phil felt kind of sorry for them; the ancient school theatre wasn’t the most inspiring of places, but no one seemed to mind, all too busy eagerly nodding at their tutor, offering their own suggestions and congratulating each other on good ideas.

Phil found it nauseating.

“Hey, Phil right?” the lighting director called over, lifting one of his headphones away from his ear. Phil nodded, trying not to roll his eyes. It wasn’t like they’d been working together for four weeks now, every single Monday and Friday night. “You can get going if you want. I don’t think they’ll decide lighting tonight, and I need to get this score sorted. Have a good weekend.”

“Thanks, you too,” Phil said gratefully, smiling for the first time since lunch, when they’d served up his favourite pizza.

It hadn’t been the most inspiring of days.

Slipping his phone in his pocket, Phil slung his backpack over his shoulder and left the makeshift office, tiptoeing down the auditorium steps so he could sneak out behind the seats. Someone had interrupted rehearsal last week, leaving the teacher fuming, and Phil really had no desires to get detention with only one year left of school.

She sounded snappy today anyway, so Phil kept his head down as he approached the stage, trying not to disturb anyone. He wasn’t sure he knew anyone up there anyway, so it wasn’t like anyone would be paying attention to him, he could just-

“Excuse me, young man?”

Phil paused, praying that wasn’t directed at him, but as he tried to sneak a look behind him, he could feel five pairs of eyes on him, and he winced.

“Yes?” he asked quietly, wondering if the lighting guy had got it wrong and they did need some lighting after all.

“What is your usual role?” she asked, and her eyes were piercing, which was offputting enough without everyone on stage staring at him too.

“I do the lights,” Phil mumbled, gesturing to where he’d just come from.

“Are you finished for the day?”

He nodded, resisting the urge to point out that it was hardly _day_ anymore.

“Excellent,” she beamed, and he heaved a sigh of relief, just glad he wasn’t in trouble for trying to sneak out. “Please wait there.”

He did as instructed, mostly because the woman terrified him, the frizz of her wild, greying hair sticking out vertically from her head in a way that defied physics, strangely shaped clothing swishing around her lithe form. Phil swore he’d never seen her before, and he’d been at this school for six years, but every interaction he had with her convinced him that this wasn’t a bad thing.

She hopped onto the stage, and Phil just stood there, watching the students gather together and talk intensely. They were all so serious, and Phil was glad his own friends weren’t like that. He would take harmless lunchtime banter and late night gaming any time.

The group split up, three of them wandering off stage, leaving just the tutor and the play’s resident Romeo, Dan Howell.

So when Phil said he didn’t know any of them, that wasn’t strictly true. He didn’t exactly _know_ Dan, but ever since he’d strutted out on to that stage four weeks ago and there had been a three second delay with his spotlight because Phil misplaced his brain, he hadn’t been able to stop watching him.

The guy was a prick, for one thing, but a very handsome one, who was annoyingly good at acting, and knew it. Phil had never really noticed him; he’d transferred to their sixth form last year he gathered, but they didn’t have any classes together, and Phil kept to himself anyway. Dan seemed to know _everyone_ though, hopping from one group of people to another constantly, always able to make himself the centre of attention, saying one thing and cracking everyone up.

Phil wondered if deep down he was a decent guy, but he just took such a dislike to anyone who had even a hint of an ego. Unfortunately, Phil also fancied the fucking pants off him and he seriously doubted they’d ever even speak, so he also resented Dan for being so beautiful in the first place.

“You, Philip, is it?” the teacher called, snapping him back to reality, and Phil was so pleased that someone had actually remembered his name for once that he looked up with too much enthusiasm, sensing immediately this was not a good idea. “Yes, if it’s not too much trouble, we just need to go through the final part of this scene, and unfortunately our Juliet has the flu.”

Phil didn’t like where this was going one bit.

“You don’t… I’m not very… don’t you want one of those guys to step in?” Phil gulped, motioning to where the others had left the stage.

“This is a sixth form play, not the RSC,” she snorted, and Dan laughed too, which Phil frowned at. “Let’s not confuse them anymore than need be. Come on, I have a script, I just need you to read out the lines while I direct Dan. You’re only stood on the balcony.”

Phil shifted uncomfortably, not moving, and she narrowed her eyes at him, as if to silently remind Phil who wrote his feedback sheet at the end of this torturefest.

“Okay,” he said glumly, dumping his bag on one of the front row seats and climbing the steps up to the stage.

Being up here was hideous, and not something Phil wanted to repeat ever again. He felt sick and there were only three of them in here. The lights were a mixture of white and red, simply because that’s what Phil had left them on, and while he was thankful that they disguised the colour of his cheeks, he couldn’t believe how _warm_ it was up here.

Dan watched him with interest, looking the epitome of professional with his rolled up sleeves, pushed back hair and small smirk. He didn’t look bothered by the heat at all, while Phil felt like he might be sick.

“Thank you,” the teacher smiled falsely, handing him a huge stack of paper and telling him to turn to Act 2, Scene 2, which honestly could have been a different language to Phil.

The way he looked up at her with huge eyes was obviously a giveaway, because she simply huffed and took the script from him again, flicking through and finding it without a moment’s hesitation, and Phil gripped it tightly as she gave it back, terrified of losing his place.

“So are we going from when Juliet re-enters, ‘heavy looks’?” Dan asked, looking so focused as he questioned their teacher. He was the only person to have ditched their script already, which was just another aspect of him Phil found irrationally irritating.

“Yes,” she smiled fondly, and Phil really always did hate teacher’s pets. “Yes, so Philip, if you head behind the curtain, you’ll see a set of stairs. Follow them and you should appear up there.”

She gestured to a spot a few metres above them, but it could have been a hundred feet for the fear it inspired in Phil. Why the hell had he been dragged into this? He should have made his excuses and left much, much earlier, and someone else could have been drafted into this unenviable task.

Silently he mooched his way into the wings, certain that at any moment he was going to trip over a rope or wire and casually tear apart the set, or break the set, or send some giant spotlight crashing down onto Dan or the drama teacher. Resisting the urge to close his eyes, Phil carefully navigated his way through the heavy curtains, various props and other clutter taking up valuable space in the wings, and made his way gingerly to the stairs as indicated. It really didn’t help that there weren’t any lights back here.

Five minutes later, and Phil popped out onto a small platform, his vision swimming as he glanced down at the figures below him who seemed very small and very far away.

“Are you ready?” Dan called up to him, giving him a thumbs up, and Phil managed a thumbs up in return, feeling like if he spoke, he would be sick. Which really wasn’t helpful when he was about to read aloud.

“Now, I think it would be quite nice if you climbed the balcony here a little, Romeo,” Phil overheard the teacher say, and he stifled a laugh, finding it ridiculous that she was referring to him in character. He was so glad this project finished at Christmas. “There should be a small platform halfway up that you can balance on, but just be careful, I don’t know how well they’ve put this thing together.”

Phil bristled at the insult to his class; he wasn’t sure any of them wanted to do this, but they’d all put their backs into it, and they weren’t getting much in return. A sudden flash of anger coursed through him and Phil pulled himself together, glaring down at the two of them to make him feel better even if they weren’t paying him any attention. At least it cleared the vertigo.

“And, from the top,” she announced, too loudly for only three people in the room.

Phil glanced at his page, noting that he spoke first, and grimaced as he didn’t even recognise the first word.

“Hist, Romeo, hist,” he began, sounding like a bored snake, and he could swear Dan laughed quietly to himself. This was going to be a long evening.

—

“Philip, could I borrow you?”

They were two weeks from opening night, and Phil had so far played Juliet three times, Tybalt twice, and had stepped in for Lady and Lord Montague at the same time, as well as Paris, Mercutio, and even a spare villager. He was pretty certain they could’ve done without him for that one, but Dan had insisted they needed that extra body just so they knew where they were at, and god forbid their increasingly stressed-out drama teacher should ignore Dan Howell.

And she still called him Philip.

“We’re just doing the lights,” he called down halfheartedly, which was sort of a lie. He’d got his head round all of the lighting stuff in a handful of weeks, and at this point he just liked changing them for something to do, which just wasn’t going to cut it he suspected.

“Someone else can cover that,” she beamed, waving him down.

After that first fateful night, when Phil had tiredly trudged out of school gone ten at night, ignoring every attempt at conversation Dan tried, he had apparently become the go-to guy for covering ill actors, or those who actually wanted to attend their other lessons rather than rehearse all day, every day.

He didn’t mind too much he supposed; fifteen minutes in and it’d become obvious that Phil wasn’t a natural actor, so the teacher had given up trying to direct him. Instead he just said the words and moved where he was told to, which was not something everyone else was willing to do it seemed, so he’d won the respect of the teacher. Which was great for his report, and terrible for Phil.

“Once more, I need a Juliet,” she sighed dramatically, then muttered to Dan, “Remind me never to choose that girl for a main part again.”

Dan nodded in agreement, and Phil openly rolled his eyes. Over the last few weeks, he’d made it very obvious to Dan how he felt about him. Phil’s suspicions had been right - Dan was stuck up, arrogant, and nice to people only when he seemed to want something, and sometimes he was so unbearable that Phil could even look past his flawless features. In return, Dan shook his head at him, and Phil sensed he didn’t like him, which was just fine.

“Do you have a script I could borrow?” Phil asked dully.

“No words today,” the drama teacher assured him, lulling him into a false sense of security. “If you could just lie up on that platform, that one over there, yes, that’s the one.”

Phil stood next to the wooden block, about to tell her where to go, before remembering that he wasn’t going to get into university with a failed tech qualification. Hesitantly climbing above it, he lay down, feeling horribly exposed. With so little time left, there were dozens of people scurrying about the stage during these last-minute rehearsals, and even a few people watching from the seats during their free periods. Phil tried to tell himself that they really didn’t care about him, but he still felt uncomfortable.

“Now then, final monologue, go.”

Dan began speaking, and Phil could just about see him pacing the stage. He was, to be fair, a very good actor, miles better than any of his peers. He threw everything into each performance, whether it was a rehearsal or the final show. For a good five minutes, there was just Dan speaking, and Phil had closed his eyes. He was bored, and he figured it couldn’t be a problem, given that he was supposed to be dead anyway.

And then suddenly Dan was right next to him, leaning over him, and Phil’s eyes shot open. Dan tried to ignore him, but there was a flicker of eye contact, and Phil swallowed. The discomfort he’d felt before was _nothing_ compared to this.

“And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars, from this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace. And, lips, o you, the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss, a dateless bargain to engrossing death.”

Phil could feel Dan’s words on his lips, and he prayed Dan wasn’t actually going to kiss him, because he had no idea how to handle that. He couldn’t stand the boy, yet somehow the idea of those lips on his was enough to make his stomach flip.

Dan was still speaking, and Phil wasn’t sure he was even breathing, until Dan promptly collapsed on top of him, and Phil froze. Dan was warm, and soft, and his arms were basically round Phil, and this was not what Phil had fucking signed up for. He was based in lighting, _lighting_ , he wasn’t here for Dan Howell to lie on top of him and make him question every emotion in his body.

Applause sounded from their teacher, and Dan shifted his weight off Phil not a moment too soon. He looked down at Phil and smiled a little, but Phil didn’t have a clue where to look, nodding at the both of them without making eye contact before scurrying off into the wings. He took one last look at Dan, who didn’t look angry or annoyed as he’d expected, just hurt, and that was just too much for Phil to process.

—

It was opening night, and apparently a party after the first show had ended was customary. And apparently Phil was part of the crew. Which was why he was currently stood awkwardly drinking a warm vodka and lemonade in the front hallway of someone’s cramped house, wondering whether it was socially acceptable to leave a party half an hour after arriving.

Spotting some of his tech friends looking equally as uncomfortable, Phil made a beeline for them, but someone bumped into him and when he looked back up, they’d disappeared again. Most of the lights were off, and the thumping music was too loud to hear anything else. He had no hope of tracking them down, he’d just have to keep his eyes peeled.

Navigating his way through to the back garden, figuring he could put up with cigarette smoke for some space and fresh air, Phil pushed open the back door and felt calmer instantly. He edged away from the smokers, who silently offered him a cigarette that he politely declined, and leaned against the wall, mostly hidden from sight as the light from outside didn’t spill over to this part of the patio. Sipping at his disgusting drink, Phil tried not to shiver, the cold autumn night giving his bare arms goosebumps.

Ten minutes passed, and Phil decided he could stick out twenty more minutes and then make his excuses. An hour was just about acceptable, especially if he claimed he had something to do tomorrow. No one else had to know that his only Saturday morning plans were sleeping, sleeping, and more sleeping, before heading back to school for the evening performance of the play.

“Hey,” someone said from close by, and Phil flinched, surprised to find Dan of all people stood about a metre away. He hadn’t even realised he was here, figuring Dan was too high and mighty to deign to show up at a party for mere mortals.

“Hi,” Phil responded reflexively, reminding himself that outside of Drama, Dan might be nice. Maybe. Unlikely.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Dan said, which took Phil by surprise, because he wasn’t sure why Dan would have been considering his presence there in the first place.

“Snap,” Phil shrugged, and Dan quirked an eyebrow, clearly requiring more explanation. “Well, you always just seem- never mind.”

Phil pushed himself off the wall, planning to go back inside before he insulted someone who probably didn’t deserve it, but Dan stopped him with a light hand on his arm.

“Why don’t you like me?” he asked bluntly. “I don’t understand.”

“What, because everyone likes you, right?” Phil scoffed. “You don’t get why someone might not?”

“No, it’s not that,” Dan said, and that same look of hurt from a few weeks ago flashed across his face. “I just don’t know what I’ve done, but you seem to hate me. The other day, you basically ran away.”

“Yeah well,” Phil shrugged, not sure how to explain his reaction when he didn’t even understand it himself.

Sometimes Dan was unbearable and sometimes Dan was perfect, and that was too confusing for a sober eighteen year old at a party he didn’t want to be at.

“Is it because you think this is all stupid, that I’m stupid?” Dan asked suddenly, and Phil whipped round at his words. “Because it’s a romantic play, and I like drama and I’m good at it?”

“No, you idiot,” Phil laughed bitterly, marvelling at how Dan had managed to say the reason without saying it. “It’s because you say things like, ‘I like drama and I’m good at it’. You have an ego. You’re arrogant. I don’t like it.”

“I’m arrogant in drama because I have to be,” Dan said defensively. “You have to be confident, or you don’t get picked for anything. You have to act to be able to act, that’s just how it works, and if you’d spent more than a second paying attention over the last few weeks, you’d realise that.”

“Excuse me?” Phil snapped, not even caring that he was freezing at this point, just too busy glaring at the boy whose arms were wrapped round himself, fringe flopped forward for once, which looked unfairly good. “I’ve been more involved than anyone else in my class, and I’ve hated it.”

“You’ve only hated it because of me, you’ve made that perfectly obvious.”

“That is not true,” Phil protested, even as he felt a little guilty.

“Yes it is,” Dan huffed, and the anger was gone again, just hurt, and Phil couldn’t even look at him. “You literally ran away the other day, why? Were you worried I was actually going to kiss you or something?”

Phil shook his head and turned to go inside, but Dan caught him again, clearly not satisfied.

“Answer me,” he said, and his voice cracked. “What happened, what have I done? Explain it to me. What, were you afraid I was going to fall in love with you or something?”

“I was afraid you weren’t,” Phil growled, snapping. He spun on his heel and pressed Dan back to the wall he’d been leaning on, kissing him the way he’d been dreaming of since the other day.

Dan was briefly surprised, but relaxed into it, wrapping his arms round Phil, and Phil had been right the other day; being in Dan’s arms, tasting Dan’s cold lips, the coke and the vodka, it all felt too good.

—

“Philip, you are there.”

The man at the front pointed to a chair at the back and Phil wandered over, thinking murderous thoughts. They were eighteen, it was their final term of school _ever_ , and his new English Lit teacher was giving them a seating plan. This was ridiculous. He’d predicted this would be a nightmare when he’d received the email over Christmas break, and it was. He wanted his old teacher, his old class, and his old seat, thanks.

“Daniel, next to Philip.”

Phil’s stomach dropped, and by the look on Dan’s face, he wasn’t too chuffed with this arrangement either.

“Don’t bother trying to argue,” he informed Dan sternly, and Dan’s shoulders dropped.

He dragged his feet as he made his way over to Phil, setting his stuff out without looking at him once. Phil felt mildly ill at the thought of this for an entire term, and he was pretty certain this was going to obliterate his near-perfect English mark, because there was no way he was going to be able to focus with Dan sat in such close proximity.

Dan’s hand was clenched round his pen tightly, knuckles white, as he stared ahead determinedly, and if he was going to pretend Phil was invisible, whatever. Maybe he deserved it anyway.

“Now then,” their teacher said happily, clearly pretending he didn’t have fourteen pissed-off faces looking back at him. “We’re ending your course with some Shakespeare, and I’ve decided on Romeo and Juliet as our set text. Is everyone familiar with the play?”

Everyone swivelled to face Dan, who went bright red, and shrugged.

“I know it,” he mumbled, and Phil nearly fell off his chair in shock. If this had been in the theatre, Dan would have been halfway through a monologue by now, and here he was throwing comments away like he hadn’t played the title role.

“Excellent,” the teacher grinned, clearly unaware as to how far Dan’s knowledge extended. “Then perhaps you’d like to tell us something about how Shakespeare writes. Perhaps a quote if you can think of any off the top of your head.”

Phil was sure Dan had set his jaw, and this put him on edge for some reason.

“More often than not, he writes in iambic pentameter. Ten syllables per line, five unstressed, five stressed,” he answered grimly, and their teacher beamed, as if they hadn’t all learnt that back in year nine.

“Any examples?” he asked, oblivious as to the fact Dan was obviously going to give him a word perfect excerpt from the play, but Phil knew it was coming.

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss,” Dan recited, voice like silk, and Phil tensed.

“Excellent,” their teacher clapped, and Phil idly wondered if Dan got applause from all of his teachers. “Excellent work. Would you like to share why you chose that particular quote? You clearly know the play well.”

“Dan played Romeo last term,” someone called out, and understanding dawned on their teacher’s face.

“I see, so you’re very familiar with this text,” he asked, and Dan blushed by way of answer. “Any particular reason you chose that quote?”

“I think it’s interesting,” Dan started. “Most people think Romeo and Juliet is about romance, but it’s a tragedy, and there’s more bloodshed and betrayal in it than there is love. I think the romantic moments stand out more, and Shakespeare’s language shows that. Like in this quote, you can really see how much meaning is placed on a kiss.”

His voice grew hard, and Phil felt a shiver run down his spine, gaze fixed at the blank piece of paper in front of him. Their teacher, suitably awed by Dan’s answer, left the pair alone for the rest of the lesson, and so consequently the next fifty minutes were spent in silence.

When the bell rang, Dan threw his stuff into his bag so quickly it nearly fell back out, and Phil grabbed his arm to stop him running away.

“Dan, can we talk?” he asked, trying to be discreet and not attract the attention of anyone.

No one else knew what had happened at the drama party, and somehow it had stayed that way.

“Oh, that’s something you’re interested in doing now, is it?” Dan spat, wrenching his arm out of Phil’s grip and storming out of the room, leaving Phil stood there regretting every action, or rather inaction, he’d taken since he’d kissed Dan and had his world flipped upside down.

He was in his final year, he didn’t need a boyfriend, especially not one he didn’t always like as a person, and yet watching Dan leave the room, shoulders hunched and head hung low, fringe falling in his eyes, that made him want to reconsider. Too bad he’d missed his chance there.

—

Two months of silent English lessons later, and three classes were piled on to a coach, making their way down to London to watch a proper performance of Romeo and Juliet, because of course this was necessary, and Phil definitely hadn’t had enough of this damn play to last a lifetime.

On the way down, Phil managed to snag a seat to himself, but somehow that didn’t work out on the journey home, so he found himself next to Dan, because the universe was a cruel place. The coach was a dizzy mix of overexcited and exhausted teenagers, so the back of the bus was raucous and the front was dead. Directly in the middle, Phil decided he just couldn’t deal with this, and shoved his earphones in, ready to brave the hours of rush hour traffic they had ahead of them with some decent music.

Beside him, he could feel rather than hear Dan rustling around in his bag, and after five minutes he flopped back into his seat, folding his arms and looking more than a little frustrated.

Wordlessly, because why break the habit now, Phil slipped one of his earphones out and offered it to Dan, who accepted it without showing any emotion. He shuffled through a few artists until Dan coughed, and Phil rolled his eyes, slightly amused by Dan’s lack of subtlety.

It was dark by the time they got back to school, and Phil had to nudge Dan awake from where he’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if the shared music had been some sort of truce, but Dan offered him a tentative smile come Monday morning, one which Phil returned, and he figured that maybe their stars weren’t crossed after all.

—

“Break a leg.”

“You don’t have to say it every time.”

“I feel like I do.”

“Nerd.”

“Dork.”

“Kiss me for good luck.”

Phil was hovering in the wings as he did every Friday, trying his best not to get in the way, failing as per usual, and Dan laughed at his awkwardness, accepting Phil’s quick kiss before he dashed on stage for his first scene. Phil dutifully took his place in Dan’s dressing room, which was where he spent most of his Friday nights nowadays.

Sometimes he ventured into the audience, but honestly if he had to watch Dan play Romeo one more time, he was going to seriously look into time travel so he could stop the play from being written in the first place. William Shakespeare had a hell of a lot to answer for in Phil’s opinion.

A short while later, Dan arrived back in his room, looking irritated.

“What happened?” Phil asked, glancing up from his laptop. He couldn’t imagine many of his colleagues did their work from inside their fiancé’s dressing room, but here he was, screen-writing in a theatre, because being conventional was pretty boring.

“Someone fucked up their lines,” Dan grumbled, re-applying his eyeliner. Phil had learnt very, _very_ quickly not to mock the make-up. Eyeliner pencils could be sharp, it turned out.

“And I’m sure you covered it up fine,” Phil reassured him, standing up and kissing his cheek, then kneading his shoulders a little as Dan leaned against his chair, head bowed.

“Of course I did, that’s not the point,” Dan huffed, and it was a good job Phil had come to find his arrogance endearing.

“What’s the point then?” Phil asked, feeling like placating Dan was the best move right now.

“I know you’re humouring me,” Dan informed him, and Phil smiled guiltily, making eye contact in Dan’s mirror. “But for the record, I had to skip one of my favourite lines, and that’s just not fair.”

“What line was it?” Phil asked, and Dan turned to face him.

“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again,” Dan declared dramatically, pulling Phil close and giving him the sort of kiss that left Dan’s lipstick on Phil’s lips and irritated him.

“You kiss by the book,” Phil informed him, smirking, and Dan’s eyes shone, shaking his head at Phil. “And I hate you.”

“Gotta go,” Dan said, glancing at his watch. “Love you too.”

“Wait,” Phil said suddenly, catching Dan’s arm and looking at him anxiously.

“What is it?” Dan asked, eyes searching Phil’s to try and figure out what was wrong.

“She didn’t really poison herself,” said Phil, completely straightfaced.

“It wasn’t funny the first time, Philip!” Dan yelled, darting back to the stage as Phil giggled to himself.

Half six on a Friday night, and Phil couldn’t believe he was voluntarily in one of London’s biggest theatres. He needed food. And maybe a drink. And then he’d have to sneak in the flowers he still bought for Dan every performance, despite his numerous death threats. Something had gone very wrong here, and Phil loved it.

**Author's Note:**

> IT’S SHAKESPEARE YAY. oh, wild disclaimer, i haven’t studied english lit for over three years now, and the last time i properly studied r&j was over six years ago??? jfc i am OLD, and also plz don’t judge me if anything is wrong and for my terrible, TERRIBLE analysis ty friends <3


End file.
